


Haereditas

by HindsightHero



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Especially haunted things, F/M, Gansey is Greenmantle 2.0, Gansey is good at finding things, Multi, Still can't kiss, Three years post TRK, basically canon compliant just... after, post Greenmantle's death, technically a college AU but also technically not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HindsightHero/pseuds/HindsightHero
Summary: Everything Colin Greenmantle did was to impress his wife, and Gansey couldn't deny that. In a way, he kind of understood.Love, after all, was why he was doing this in the first place.  It was why he had moved to Boston. Why he kept answering Seondeok's calls. Why his fingers traced the gold initial G of Colin's haunted inventory list, and found himself with a new, flourishing career in the occult black market. Well, love, and persistent curses.





	1. Etiamnunc

  
       Blue didn’t like either of the new journals in Gansey’s life. The first one she didn’t like because of the original owner. Because of the gold and gaudy capital G on the cover. The second, Blue didn’t like because of the woman who gave it to him. Of what it meant. Although a part of her respected Seondeok in a terrifying, mother of her friend and occasional bedmate way, the woman had an uncanny ability to have an influence over whatever crossed her path. A fearful quality that even Blue’s own mother, Maura, only managed on the rare morning. No, aside from Greenmantle’s book of inventory, the journal that had replaced Gansey’s old one -the bit of binding that enveloped the Glendower myth - was a different beast. Less loving. Less nostalgic. Less… Gansey. Pages that has once spoke of leylines and haphazard Latin or Welsh translations had been replaced by numbers and names. Addresses. Lists.

       There were still maps. No journal owned by Richard Campbell Gansey III would ever be complete without a map, but this one marked places beyond Henrietta. It mapped cities across the continental United States; dusty cities, shining cities. Places that, upon their first visit that summer road trip three years before, seemed to taste of freedom and hope and greasy gas station hot dogs.

       Blue should have known better. She should have seen it coming. After all, Gansey was a boy who felt ordained by the universe to find missing things. So, of course he couldn’t say no when Henry’s mom asked for his help.  
  
       Of course there would be a rat race to find haunted dolls and charmed jewelry, abandoned by their owners after the downfall of the Greenmantles and Laumoniers.  
         
       Of course.

       The death of Colin Greenmantle by his wife’s hands shot through the occult black market with a speed that’d have made Paul Revere cry in shame. The events at Henrietta, when Piper tried to auction off a demon…well- It all fell apart after that.  
  
        So did their collection.  
  
       Rummaged worse than an Egyptian tomb by the Victorians.

       At first Henry didn’t hear much of it. Truth be told, metaphysical items were the last thing on anyone’s mind that summer after Graduation. They had struggled to forget everything that happened. The sight of blood, the smell of the rain soaked forests and dream flowers. It took a few weeks for even gasoline to be associated with anything hopeful again.  
  
       But then, just when everything had been going sort of decent again, one day, somewhere along the endless cornfields of middle America, Henry got the call. Family Business and all that. Duty called with a Madonna ringtone.

       Three years had passed since then, and all the months proved to Blue was that Gansey had been sucked into a new obsession. Fully formed. Fully sponsored and fully fucking up his sleep schedule.

       It was close to dawn. Still chilly enough that as her feet touched the wooden floorboards, a shiver shot up Blue’s spine. Everything was still, quiet, in the pastel haze of a 5 am morning in May. Everything except for the lump of a man in the living room. The same place she had left him, legs crossed on the faded oriental rug, one hand holding the same replacement journal, the other with a familiar thumb upon his lips.

       “Still at it?” she asked. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and at last, Gansey seemed to tune in to his girlfriend’s presence.

       “Hm? Oh, yeah. Just working on the provenance of this mask. Before Greenmantle, it was last seen in the 70’s somewhere in southern Texas, but before that I’m pretty sure it goes back to Spain. At least if the manuscript in that guy’s collection is referencing the same thing. Which I think it is. If that’s the case then it seems to be fifteenth century. Possibly early sixteenth. There’s a few missing holes though. I think our best bet is to find one of the previous owners. Record suggests it was an heirloom, so the relatives would be the most eager to get it back. ”

 _Right,_ Blue reminded herself. The mask. It was different than Ronan’s. This one was made of leather, and said to force the unlucky wearer to speak the truth against their will. If they didn’t, or tried to lie, it would fuse to their skin with every word. If they died, the owner would rip it off of them anyways. Recycling and all that.  
  
        It was disgusting.  
  
       It was number 73 on Greenmantle’s inventory list. Another item stolen after the couple’s various hideouts had been ransacked. There were hundreds of items missing. But there were also now dozens in the trio’s possession. Or Seondeok’s.

       “You look like the sixteenth century was the last time your eyes got any rest,” said Blue.

       “I’m fine.”

       “You’re doing it again.”

       Gansey slammed the journal shut, finally turning to look at her. “We need to find it before it has a chance to surprise us at an auction somewhere. I don’t want another situation like we had with the dagger in Albuquerque. It slipped through our fingers.”

       “No. Two guys in shitty knit caps aimed a gun at our heads. I think that’s different.”

       “Well.. all that proves is what kind of people now have their hands on an incredibly dangerous weapon.”

       “Mm. Somehow I don't think they're the stabbing type. They seemed rather fond of projectiles.”

       “You’re being facetious.”

       “It’s five am. Sue me.” Gansey shook his head and moved to open the journal again. To which, Blue sighed. “Where’s Henry?”  Maybe he could talk some sense into Gansey. She certainly wasn’t getting anywhere. She had better things to do. Like dream of two headed goats climbing trees.

       “Seattle,” Gansey said simply. “Or he will be. He left a few hours ago to catch a flight.”

       A new frown found it’s way on Blue’s lips. Her arms crossed. “Let me guess, Mama called?”

       “She does a lot for us, Jane. I don’t understand what you have against her.”

       “Well, right now it’s the fact I’m up four hours before exams start.”

       “Technically that’s your fault, not hers.”

       “You have exams too! Or have you forgotten?”

       Gansey paused. “I… no. I remembered.” His face was not convincing.

       “You’re going to fail.”

       “I’ve got it handled”

       “Really? You’ve got it ‘handled’ ? Who’d you pay off this time? Mrs.Wardicker at the registration office? That T.A. Elliot?”

       He frowned. “I know it may come as a shock to you but I didn’t have to pay off anyone. My final paper is on the transmission of texts from Spain to Mexico during the 17th century. It’s related.”

       “Hmph. Clever.”

       “Hardly. My years of Latin aren’t very helpful with early modern Spanish dialects.”

       Blue shook her head. “ _Toda la gente estudia español pero tú no_ . _Joder_.”

       For a moment, Gansey tried to process the words. But his brain was tired. Everything about him was tired.“.. _._ _Vescere bracis meis_.”

       “I’d rather not. Who knows what kind of chemicals your drycleaner uses.”

       Gansey stopped, and turned his head to look her directly in the eye with an arched brow. “Wait, you knew that?”

       Blue rolled her eyes. “Four years of Latin via osmosis. If I didn’t, I would never understand those late night calls you make to Ronan. Plus, it's the tamest insult, therefore, the one you use most often.”

       “Those calls are private!”

       She shrugged. “And if you studied Spanish you would understand more of mine and Adam’s jokes instead of getting jealous. You’d also, stop needing to use Google translate so much for your papers this term Mr. January Junior.”

       “Touché.”

       They had taken a gap year after graduation.  
  
       Well, Gansey and her. Henry actually remembered to apply for colleges at the time everyone else did. He wasn’t preoccupied with an inevitable death. Who would have imagined the wonders that did for productivity? It also meant he had already graduated, thanks to the AP credits from Aglionby and was free to roam about for their work. Meanwhile Gansey was skipping classes left and right, putting him about a year and a half behind the future his parent’s had planned, and Blue was just about the only full brain left between them. It was worrying. Even if Gansey always managed to find a way to relate his papers and presentations to whatever they were tracking down at the time. She supposed it was easier as a History major. Law was not as kind. But at least she was on track for a timely graduation.

       Still, the events of that very confusing gap year were why they were here in the first place. In Boston. In the Greenmantle’s old apartment. Surrounded by haunted objects and the remnants of a very messed up couple with too much money on their hands. Sometimes it felt invasive. Mostly it just meant there were rooms Blue was not allowed in because items had temper tantrums when they came in contact with her energy. Or they would leech it. Which was even less fun.  
  
       Somehow, she was still an outsider in the metaphysical realm. A hindrance, safer to observe from the sidelines.

       “Bed, _mi amor,_ ” Blue said, tired of waiting for Gansey to stop writing. “Now.”

       “...Fine.”  
  
       With a slap of the pages, Gansey shut the journal once more and stood up. His back popped as he stretched and released a long yawn that he had probably been fighting off for the better part of five minutes. Without another word, he turned to pace the remaining steps to his mattress, and plopped down. His glasses smooshed between his cheek and the sheets.

       The apartment had three bedrooms. Technically one for each of them, which, at first seemed nice. The problem was that one had been the study that Colin’s body was found in. Along with the corpses of hundreds of dead bees. Needless to say, Gansey wasn’t about to sleep there. Henry was the only one willing to sleep in the couple’s old bedroom. To have no qualms with their king size mattress or display cabinet filled with dolls and a haunted nightstand. Blue, on the other hand, preferred the guest room. Clean. Kind of dusty and obviously unused. Pretty much void of anything haunted other than an antique Ouija board collection and some crystals that reminded her of home.

       Gansey preferred to sleep in the living room on a mattress, by the front door.  
  
       It was familiar and yet, uncanny. A nostalgic sight sometimes Blue didn’t like to think about. One that clashed with the fancy wallpaper and posh furniture that ordinarily would have made her smile. Instead it was something that made her heart hurt for a building they couldn’t go back to. A Monmouth that had become something of a myth, as of a year before.

       The comforter rustled as Gansey put his frames on the floor, and curled in on himself and shut his eyes. Beyond the curtains the sky grew two shades lighter. Birds began to chirp. Gansey struggled, and rolled over.

       After a moment of watching her boyfriend fail to relax, Blue moved to the couch and sat down. Then, she grabbed a pillow and laid down at the end closest to Gansey, silent, as her eyes shut.  
  
       The room went silent again. Then, Gansey whispered.“...Thanks. ”  
  
       “I know.”  
  
       “We’ll find it.” he said. “All of these pieces. They’re going to point us in the right direction.”  
  
       “...I know. Now go to sleep.”

        It was meant to be sweet. She knew that was how he meant it. But for Blue, the phrase had also become Gansey’s greatest excuse. Another dream item. Tenth century. Maybe eleventh. A little black mirror. Number 112 on Greenmantle’s List. Only it wasn’t a list of inventory, but of things even he had yet to find. That even Piper’s father and uncles had failed to find. Something that would finally, maybe, cancel her out. A mirror that soaked up curses. That neutralized magic. That shielded batteries. A mirror specifically for other Mirrors. So of course it was the hardest thing on the list.

 _“I want to marry you, Blue.”_ Gansey had said eight months earlier. After Adam and Ronan had been formally engaged. After the three of them had just barely escaped with their lives from a deal in Amsterdam. _“ I want to marry you. But all I can think about is you up there in some ridiculous dress and the crowd waiting for us to kiss, and we can’t.”_  
       
        “We wouldn’t need to.”

 _“But I_ want _to.”_ he had said. “ _As much as you don’t want to wear white. I want to be able to kiss my bride.”_

_“Marriage is overrated anyways.”_

_“That’s not the point.”_

_“....You really want to?”_

_“I...yes. If you want to. ”_

_“       I guess… that’d be fine.”_ she had said. “ _If you can promise me you won't die.”_

       But that was the thing. In the last three, almost four years, there had only been one kiss. Plenty of other far less innocent things, sure. Plenty of shared kisses between them and Henry. A few wild nights under the stars and wilder nights with Netflix in the background, or the smell of cheap motels and PBR. But only one kiss with Gansey. One that was downright traumatizing.  
  
       Naturally Ronan had offered to dream something up, but with Cabeswater gone, or, in Gansey, everything was different. All their guarantees were gone. Ronan could make a dozen Pigs. Engine-less and fuel efficient but with things like this… with not just magic, but her magic and Gansey’s, it was something they didn’t want to mess with. Like Epi-pens.

  
       Blue wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. Just that when she woke up, Gansey was gone, and the fridge had been restocked with yogurt. The coffeepot was full of herbal tea, gurgling and keeping warm, and she had approximately 45 minutes to run to class.

       The rest of the day went by in a blur. Pray that the sink faucet doesn’t defy gravity and spray her in the face. Take a card from her tarot deck ( Page of Coins, interesting ) and the bus to campus just in time to sit down for the written final in Ethics of International Trade Law. It was around 1:00 p.m. when Blue got a text from Gansey to meet for lunch at pub between her campus and his.

       When she arrived, he already had a coffee on the table, half empty.

       Blue threw her tote bag in the corner of the booth. “What’s up? It’s not a Thursday.”  
  
       Thursday was the day they both had empty afternoons and Henry had off work. But it was Tuesday, and Blue was pretty certain Gansey had a course on the Reformation in thirty minutes.

       “I uh, I got a call from Henry,” he said. “About his mom.”

       Blue furrowed her eyebrows. “Is she okay?”

       “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, she’s fine. But... he said she might have finally found it.”

       It, in this instance, could have been a million different things. She made a face, and Gansey got the point to clarify.

       “The place that last sold the mirror,” he told her. “Jane, he said she found pictures. It actually exists. It wasn’t destroyed. It’s the same one. Box and everything, he says. ”

       Gansey was excited. A hopeful grin has appeared on his face, almost enough to make the dark circles easy to ignore. But for Blue, at the words, the pub went silent. The air went still and her lungs felt heavy.

       Hazel eyes watched her for a moment before Gansey continued, his smile drooping ever so slightly.

       “Um, so, Henry said he’s flying back tonight with the records. Things like photos and a few newspaper clippings he think might be related. Stuff to help with the search. Oh, he also said he found a buyer for that weird taxidermy squirrel? If so, that’ll bring in another grand. Blue? Are you listening? ”

       The world snapped back to her. “What? Yeah. Squirrel. Mirror. I’m with you….what’s wrong?”

       Gansey looked concerned. “Nothing I just, I guess I thought you’d be more excited?”

       “I am,” said Blue. “I am. It’s good. It’s been a while. But we need to be practical.”

       “About the mirror? Yeah,” Gansey sighed. “I know.”

       But Blue shook her head. “No, the squirrel. It’s illegal to trade animal carcasses across state lines. We need to find out who Henry’s trying to sell it to. Otherwise Ronan will need to help us make a permit. We need more information.”

       Again, Gansey stared at his girlfriend. “You’re seriously focused on taxidermy trade laws right now?”

       “I just took an exam on it!”

       “Jane,” said Gansey, his mouth growing thin. “Tell me whats wrong.”

       “Nothing,” she said. Then, after a moment of realizing the man across the table from her was not going to relent, Blue sighed. “Let’s just wait until Henry is back. I’m not going to get excited until I can see these photos for myself. We’re still in stage one. If this were any other item - if this were that mask, you wouldn't be scheduling a meeting and skipping class during Finals. You’d have waited until I got home. ”

       Slowly, Gansey leaned back until he was rested against the booth’s cushion, then he nodded.

       “Yeah, “ he confessed. “You’re right.”

       “I’ve still got my review session at 3:00, so I won’t be home until after 6:00. When’s Henry getting back?”

       “I’m picking him up from the airport tonight, at 6:15.”

       “Alright. Should I order pizza then?”

       “I thought you only did that when we had coupons about to expire?”

       “Well tonight I’m saying fuck it. We’re selling a possessed squirrel carcass.”

       Blue witnessed Gansey crack a small smile. Unguarded. Unhopeful. Easy. She mirrored the motion.

       “Sure, Why not. Let’s celebrate. A farewell to Mortimer.”

       “He had beady little eyes anyways.”

       Gansey reached for his coffee. “You know they kept him in the bedroom right? Piper had a little pink collar on him. Henry moved it to the study after the first night. Said he swore the tail kept twitching.”

       Blue shook her head in mock sympathy. “May the poor new owner be able to handle the horror.”

       “Did you want something to eat? Have you already had lunch?”

       For a brief moment, she considered it. The spare yogurt from her bag had been consumed hours ago. But then, Blue shook her head.“ No. You need to get to class.”

       “Well, yeah, I know but-”

       “No buts,” she said firmly.

       “C’mon…we’re already here.”

       “Don’t make me call Adam!”

       Gansey’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

       “Imagine his face of disappointment. You’ve already had two strikes with him this term Dick, I’d hate to think what he’d do when you hit three.”

       “Jane,” he pleaded in horror. “Please. You know he’ll insist on driving here.”

       “Then stop dawdling and get your ass to class!”

       It was a good threat. For all the months Henry and them had lived in the Greemantle’s apartment, neither Adam nor Ronan knew exactly whose apartment it was they now called home. The couple were perfectly aware that they had all moved to Boston. They hadn’t tried to hide that. Ronan even knew the sort of business they were in. Maybe not the full extent. But, that was for safety reasons. He was technically still the Greywaren. A buffer was necessary.

       No, the real trouble came with the original owners. Even back in Henrietta, Ronan had refused to step foot in their house. Adam only managed to once, which was limited to examining their library and taking an assortment of textbooks, at his boyfriend’s, and everyone else’s, avid encouragement.

       Colin and Piper had left their mark on everyone involved in one way or another. Mr.Gray even stayed in Henrietta to keep everyone safe for those first few, extra rocky months. He was the first one to find out what Gansey and Blue were doing, which led to his insistence on scheduling a series of self defense classes, and providing them with a list of reliable contacts in the field. Not nice ones, he said. But reliable ones.

       It was a short list.

       But, when it came to the Greenmantle’s, their presence could be felt in everything, and some people could stomach it more than others.

       Gansey, seemed to have less of a problem with each passing day.

       “I’ll see you tonight then,” Gansey said, once his cup was empty and a tip placed on the table. Blue watched as he stood and slung the leather back over his shoulder, and then placed his thumb to his cheek. He pressed it to hers in what had become an all-too-familiar motion.

       Blue smiled. “Should I text you before ordering the pizza?”

       “Oh, now you decide to be nice to me.”

       “I made sure you got sleep, how is that not nice?”

       “It was. I’m sorry, thank you Ms. Sargent for ensuring I’m a responsible adult human today.”

       “You’re a boy, you can’t help it. Although you are aware it's not a woman’s job to babysit you, right? “

       Again, he laughed. “Yes. I’m well aware. Merely appreciative. Do you need a ride back to campus?”

       She gave him a look. “Chivalry works better when you’re not already late.”

       Gansey raised his hands in a lazy defense. “ Alright, alright,  I’ll see you at home then.”

       “See you,” said Blue, and, after another brief finger kiss to her cheek, her boyfriend disappeared beyond the front doors, and she was left alone in the boot, with an oddly growing empty feeling. One that went far beyond the growling of her stomach.

       For a moment, as the sound of the Pig faded out from the parking lot, Blue sat with her eyes locked onto the mostly empty cup. The spot where Gansey’s lips had been only minutes before. Where his chapstick still left a noticeable mark as it caught the light. She swallowed, and glanced around the pub. When the coast was clear, Blue nervously reached out across the tabletop, to hold it in her hands. She took a breath.  
  
       Then, lining her lips up, to the marks, she took a sip, as slow as her nervous heart could manage. And when she was done, and the last traces of cappuccino foam were drained, Blue put the cup back down with a clink, stood up with newly shaking hands, and left to catch the bus for campus.

  
\-------------

  
       It was a little known fact, but Colin Greenmantle adored his wife in the best way a complete narcissist ever could. For every page in the wine journal used to rank a 1966 Burgundy or 1994 Syrah and all their berry brimming, chocolatey, gunpowder charm, there was a page in a journal of his inventory. A little leather bound book with the initial G embossed and edged in tasteful gold leaf. And within its cover, was a cursive script listing dozens of haunted objects. Pages of dolls and earrings and cursed jewelry that not only listed their market value, but a more important one. The value to Piper. A scale of one to ten, marked in red ink, as to how well the gift was received. It seemed every item he searched for was held against her heart first. And if Piper was unimpressed, he was unimpressed, and off to the seedy occult black market it went.

       The journal also served as the only record of the Greenmantle's immense collection. It recorded the turnaround of their items sold at auction. Profits, dividends and various test results on the degree of haunted-ness and horror. Most, it seemed, were let downs. There were very few that earned anything above a seven. One was a diamond necklace that forced the wearer to obey the commands of whoever held the matching ring. The ring, as the journal made clear, which fit Piper perfectly. Then there were the dolls they tested in the bedroom. Leaving them out all night to see if any moved. There were records of how drunk the couple needed to be to piss one off enough that it flew at Colin's head from ten feet away. That one, Piper gave a smiley face.

       Everything Colin Greenmantle did was to impress his wife, and Gansey couldn't deny that.

       In a way, he kind of understood.  
  
       Love, after all, was why he was doing this in the first place.  
  
       It was why he had moved to Boston. Why he kept answering Seondeok's calls. If you asked him years ago, Gansey would have told you he never anticipated becoming so engrossed in another man's journal. But, after his first visit at the end of that first summer following graduation, when he, Blue and Henry first arrived...it drew him in.

       Okay, Gansey reasoned. So she killed him. It wasn't that romantic. But Piper was also in cahoots with a demon. The same demon that had controlled Adam and made him nearly hurt Ronan, that destroyed Cabeswater and tried to _kill_ Ronan. So, a part of Gansey held the opinion maybe she wasn't in full control either. That maybe Piper hadn't meant to kill her husband in his boxers with a swarm of bees.

       Magic, after all, really liked to fuck with relationships.

       That much he was certain of.

       It had been three years since he died. Both Greemantle and himself. Since the smell of the road and nearby pastures mingled with the rain and gasoline as he fell. Three agonizing years of trying to find a way to still be with Blue. It was fine.  
  
       Things were going fine.

       Gansey told himself this everyday. But all that really meant was he had to battle the idea of buying flowers every time he felt guilty. That, he would get fair trade coffee or splurge on Blue's favourite yogurt. Gifts, as bad as they were, were about the only way he knew how to not let the guilt eat him alive.

       Of course it was also _Blue Sargent_ he was in love with. A girl who ordered him not to buy anything on Valentine's Day of all days. Or anything for her, ever. A girl whose pride rivaled Adam's no matter how many anniversaries they celebrated. Who thought a Corona was a better romantic splurge than a bottle of champagne. So it left Gansey in a very frustrating position. The fact she didn’t seem as excited about the mirror was also frustrating. Months of searching and then...nothing. Gansey didn’t know how it made him feel. Actually, he knew exactly how it made him feel, he just didn’t want to think about it.

  
       He tried to go to class. To sneak in to the back and listen about clerical debates in the New World, but his brain wasn’t there. Even as it turned to the witch trials, as any early modern discussion about the New World tended to do, it just reminded Gansey of Blue. Of 300 Fox Way. Of all their mirrors and scrying bowls and magic.

       He just wished Blue understood. During those nights when he couldn't sleep. When his eyes were red and circled in purple and the coffee stopped working hours ago. That all of it was for her. Every new language he learned to be able to read a new centuries old text. Everytime he struggled with Spanish, or fourteenth century French. How a frustrated groan escaped his throat every time he was faced with early modern Latin being used by a Dutch trader. Gansey wished Blue understood that the insomnia wasn't because of the same problems with Glendower. That he wasn't scared he was going to die. He had done that. They had done the therapy and their weekly tarot readings with Maura. They had celebrated St.Mark’s eve only weeks before and they were doing _better_ . Things were _different_ and they were _better._

       No, he wanted to tell her. All of this searching was because he wanted to make Blue happy.

       Even if it meant they had to live in the old Greenmantle's apartment. If it would led him to an item that would let them kiss. Let them feel human, normal, for a bit, he would do it. He would give anything. Even Henry was losing sleep trying to help her. And finally, after 32 months of searching for it, he finally might have gotten their first lead.

       How could she not be excited?

       Gansey opened his notebook and wrote down the same list of facts they had known from Greenmantle’s own investigation. That the mirror was small, black, and round. It existed in a time before mirrors were even a thing in Wales, but yet, it certainly existed because there was an eleventh century reference to it from a monastery near Cumbria, believing it could be used to steal magic from the fae, or the power from demons. It was kept in a box made of wood, with, later, added Welsh inscriptions. A phrase that was etched away and worn, unreadable other than what would today be breuddwydio: _dreamed._ The early stuff was easy to find. He knew the record well from all those years searching for Glendower. The manuscripts and databases and libraries he knew like the back of his hand. It was everything else that was a challenge.  
  
       Gansey knew the mirror travelled Europe. That it was in Prague thanks to John Dee for a bit. That it changed hands dozens of times. From kings to priests, even to a pope. Always fading into nothing and reappearing across another ocean. The stories were so infrequent and random that most collectors assumed there was more than one mirror. But Colin had done his research. So had Piper. Now, so had Seondeok. They all knew there was only one. And Gansey knew that it would help Blue. He knew it in the same way he knew about Glendower. Even if he hadn’t been sleeping. Even if he was dead and all out of wishes. Every feeling Gansey’s gut led him there, and now, every feeling in his gut was telling him this was real.  
  
       That they had finally found their solution.  
  
       And he was going to get it. No matter what it took. No matter what other item they had to sell.  
  
       He just wanted to be done with this curse.

 

       Class let out and, in a rush, Gansey dropped off his paper in the professor’s box before racing to the parking lot and back to the apartment to get to work. It was 3:38 when the Pig’s driver’s side door slammed shut, and 3:58 when it opened again. If he calculated it right, He had about an hour and a half before he’d need to go pick Henry up. But that was enough time for some cross referencing.

       As the front door shut and Gansey tossed his key onto the side table, the air shifted. The lights flickered on, one by one, and he threw the leather bag onto the couch.

       A knock came from the study, to which, Gansey stopped, and turned, and whistled.  
  
       “Hello?”  
  
       He waited, but a second knock never came.  
  
       “Fine, be that way. Don’t say hello. But, Noah at least managed to be polite.”

       The thing with haunted objects and ghosts was that, the thing that made them scary tended to disappear after you’d seen one drop a snow globe at the Dollar Tree. Or manifest in your car. Or bathroom. Or attack your girlfriend as they fade from humanity and become tethered to a demonically controlled dream forest. ...Or sacrifice themselves for you.

       Gansey grabbed an apple from the fridge and took a bite.

       The study door creaked open.

       He walked by, and opened it further.

       If rooms had a bad feeling, the study probably had the worst. It had an energy strong enough to make even Ernest Hemingway's hair stand up on the back of his neck. For Gansey, that feeling mostly left when the bees were vacuumed up and he could safely step foot inside. But some of it still remained. A darkness still clung to the walls. He just got used to it.

       Now, it held a collection of books that he needed for research. Along with a lot of things in boxes and jars. Thing’s with labels and corresponding numbers that had taken a good week of work and a house full of psychics to get back to normalcy.

It also held Mortimer, and an impressive wine rack.

       Gansey reached for another one of Colin’s record books, and ran his fingers along the spine.  
  
       He knew he should hate the Greenmantles. He knew what they did. But after spending a Christmas here, in his apartment, surrounded by his books and obsessions, Gansey couldn’t help but chart the similarities. The same hurried scrawl in notebooks. The napkins taped to the inside of pages. The photos and manila folders of notes and clues from an early hunt. The writing was tidier in the later books. He got more organized. The layout, style, and charm made it apparent when Piper entered the picture.  
The old journals, though, were entirely too familiar. Even the later one, with it’s abrupt end on the Greywaren was familiar, and too often did Gansey find himself tracing the outer initial with his finger as he read.

       Finally, after locating the correct one, Gansey moved on to grab a dictionary of Medieval Church Latin, and a map of the West Coast, along with a few other books that just seemed interesting. Some that might have been useful. Some that he could read while waiting at the airport Arrivals. Then, when he was done, with his arms full, Gansey wedged the door back open with his foot, and without even asking, the door creaked shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea wouldn't leave me alone. That boy is too good at finding things, and you cannot tell me after the events in Henrietta and with someone as prolific as Colin Greemantle, it wouldn't royally fuck up the occult black market. So yes. Here is chapter 1 of my Dark! Gansey fic. Mostly just a lot of set up so the plot can get rolling. Thanks to tumblr for the encouragement that my idea wasn't entirely ridiculous.
> 
> Also thanks to sarahtaylorgibson on tumblr for beta-ing.


	2. Excitare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topics researched include : bogs around the world, digital imagining techniques in archaeology, a history of mirrors, Back Bay Boston drive time, and the pronouns used for RoboBee.  
> Topics not researched : The average decante time for a Zinfandel because I’m a bit of a horrible lush.
> 
> Anyways so this chapter is long, and plot heavy. Which is why it’s long. So there’s a treat at the end.

 

       Henry collided into Gansey with open arms and a force nearly powerful enough to knock two grown men over and into the metal trashcan of the Arrivals section at Logan Airport. His grin was infectious, standing out through the chaos of the crowd, and before Gansey knew it, his face was being smashed into the shoulder strap of Henry’s backpack while the other man laughed.

       They didn’t need to say it. No words were enough to encompass the excitement. Even if Henry had barely been gone for 18 hours, that wasn’t the cause for joy.

       “You brought them right?” Gansey asked after they finally pulled apart.

       Henry eyed him, and gave a usual, cocky grin. “Actually, I left them in Seattle. Would you believe it?”

       Gansey landed a small punch to his arm, and then guided them both away from the crowd, past the luggage counters and masses in line for check in, and out towards the parking structure. The drive had taken longer than planned, but luckily so had Henry’s flight, meaning Gansey had been left with a whopping 55 seconds to run down the steps and across the terminal to the waiting area. But he made it. He still made it.

 

       “So, did you tell her?” Henry asked, eager for an update. At some point, he had expected to hear from Blue. A text, a call. But there was nothing.

       Gansey pulled out his keys. “Uh, yeah. Yeah,” he assured Henry. “I told her when we met at the pub for lunch.”

       An eyebrow arched in curiosity. “And? What did she say?”

       “That we need to be practical.” The disappointment clung to Gansey’s voice, earning a frown from the other man. The previous excitement was dwindling.

       “Well, yeah. Okay. Practical. Sensible...that sounds like her. But what else?”

       Gansey sat down into the leather seats and shoved the key into the ignition. “That we need to know who you’re selling Mortimer to. Something about taxidermy laws and state lines.”

       “His name is Reggie and he lives in Oklahoma. But, it’s not a bird, and it doesn’t fall under MESA. It’s a squirrel from the 1950’s that might or might not have at one point been used in the transportation of illicit drugs,” explained Henry, not seeing the problem. It was certainly an easier case than the various items they’d found the year before. Or the assortment of other, questionable once-living things.. Then, he stopped. “Are you telling me she focussed on that mangy thing? Dick. Dicky boy. You told her about the mirror right?”

       Fingers tightened on the familiar wheel as Gansey took a breath.

       “I did,” he said.

       Henry looked dumbfounded, sitting back in the passenger seat with eyes forward, staring blankly ahead. “Huh.”

       The Pig roared.

       “I don’t know man,” said Gansey as they made their way back to the highway. “It’s finals though. Maybe she’s stressed. It didn’t help she caught me trying to skip Dr. Osworth’s class.”

       Henry gave a short, bemused laugh. “Shouldn’t _you_ be stressed? ”

       “I’ve got it handled.”

       “Mm. Handled. Right.”

       Gansey frowned.“What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “Nothing, just, you’re so lucky. Not all of us can rely on charm to maintain a GPA.”

       The Pig quickly changed lanes. “You know, I’m really sick of people telling me that. I thought when we left Aglionby it’d be different. But no. Is it such a stretch to think I’d be able to pass a class on my own?  That maybe I know a thing or two? It’s not like I had three papers accepted to journals for publication last year.”

       “Woah,” said Henry. “Someone’s nerves are showing.”

       The interior of the Pig went quiet, then Gansey sighed.

       “She accused you of paying off Elliot again didn’t she?”

       “It was one time! I bought him coffee! How is that buying someone off?”

       “You exchanged money for goods and services.”

       “Yeah well, those services were limited to a twelve hour extension on a paper that, might I add, was only late because _your mom_ sent us on an urgent job in Montreal.”

       Henry shrugged. “You’re the one who said it couldn’t wait. Blue and I were perfectly willing to be patient.”

       Gansey rolled his eyes. “Sure, fine. It’s my fault. Apparently like everything else lately. Let’s drop it, shall we?”

       Ah, thought Henry. He knew that voice. Tired. Annoyed. Pretentious. It was a voice that meant things weren’t going well with Blue — or their hunt— but, 90% of the time it was a distinctly Blue related mood. There were only two people in the world close enough to his heart to elicit the defensive wall of douchbaggery,  
Somehow, he didn’t think Adam called today.  
  
       “Dick…”

       “I don’t want to talk about it.”

       “Too bad. Why wasn’t Blue excited when you told her?”

       “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

       Henry thought it over. “Does she have study sessions tonight?”

       “They should be over. She was going to— Oh, shit. Hang on, grab my phone for me will you? She was going to text about pizza.”

       Without a moment’s hesitation, Henry reached over the console and thrust his hand into Gansey’s pocket to wiggle the iPhone carefully out. Sure enough, when he swiped the passkey it revealed a series of missed messages from certain ‘Jane’.

       “Ordering now, she says. What do you want…” Henry read the next one. “If I don’t get a reply in three minutes I’m ordering half with pineapple just to spite you.” He laughed. “Shit, sorry, just checked the arrivals page. Say hi to H for me, I’ll get the usual.” When he was done reading, Henry opened the keyboard and typed a quick reply. Then, he dropped the phone into the cup holder.

       “What’d you say?”

       Henry grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

       In the extended rush hour traffic, it took the boys longer than normal to return to Back Bay and the familiar Brownstone, but when they did, and at last the front door shut, the pair were greeted by the scent of pizza and the sight of Blue in her bra, boxers and an unbuttoned flannel with a slice already in her mouth.  

       Henry immediately flung his backpack down as he ran over and picked her up, to much protest. “Oh it’s been _ages,_ Bluebell” he sighed dramatically.

       Blue punched him and wiggled until she was released. Then, she punched him again for good measure. “It would’ve helped if I knew you were leaving in the first place, you ass.”

       Henry shrugged and stole the piece out of her hand. “It was last minute,” he explained before taking an enormous, cheese filled bite. “Besides, As I heard it, Dick already told you the whys and the what fors.”

       Unlike his housemate, Gansey lingered by the door. He scanned the hallway and then shut the door, taking his time to punch in the security key and reset the alarms. Then, finally, he moved to drop his book bag near the couch. Blue looked over at him, waiting for an answer, only to find that he avoided her gaze.

 Not missing the motion and refusing to be a third wheel in whatever the hell was going on, Henry immediately turned his attention back to Blue.

       “Alright, care to clue me in?” he asked, voice hushed.

       Blue eyed Gansey for a moment longer, and then shook her head and reached to steal the slice of pizza back. “It’s nothing. Hurry up and eat before it gets cold.”

Behind them, the study door creaked, and Blue looked back at the noise and shuddered.

       “Not the first time tonight I take it,” quipped Henry.

       “Hardly. It keeps doing that. Ever since I got back.”

       “It must be Mortimer. He knows we’re selling him,”

       “Well he needs to _stop_.”

       Under ordinary circumstances, Blue was fine with the state of their living arrangements. She had months of practice coming home to an empty house that drained her energy if she wasn’t careful. She even grew used to items falling off shelves and lights flickering. To the chill in the air, or the odd sensation that she would turn around and still see Noah. The only reprieve came from the fact she didn’t have to deal with it all as much in the guest room. Still, Blue couldn’t deny that after St.Mark’s Eve a few weeks before, the apartment seemed more… active.

       And so had Gansey’s insomnia.

       Blue’s attention drifted back to the hunched form of her boyfriend. To his tired shoulders and ever-present polo. Today’s polo was an annoying shade of green that had especially stood out against the dark leather back of the pub booth just a few hours before. An image that reminded her yet again of how lunch had ended.

       She hated that she felt _guilty._ Unsure about why her brain went blank when he was sitting there, grinning and so excited in front of her. For a glimmering moment, she was able to see the same old Gansey. The person he had been back at Nino’s, on those nights with the five of them piling into a booth for pizza that, if she admitted it, was better than the take out here in Boston. Blue even missed shitty sweet tea and how Gansey’s Glendower journal had too many stains from it to count.

       Blue just didn’t know what she could do about it.

       Again, only a few feet away Gansey shuffled unsure of himself, probably because of her, and even if it went against all rationale, every other part of her body wanted to hold him close, and breathe in his overpriced cologne. To tell him whatever was on his mind was stupid and then make him forget it. She wanted to know what it would feel like to be held by him and kiss him like everyone else could in the whole fucking world. Like the way they kissed Henry on the rare occasion after too much to drink, or on the more common, sober nights when they all felt a little too lonely.  
Henry rested a hand on her shoulder, snapping Blue back to reality.

       “You okay?” he asked.

       Blue shook her head. “Yeah, fine. Tough study session.”

       “Mm,” Henry hummed, knowingly.

From the living room, Gansey stretched, visibly getting caught in a yawn.

       “He stayed up again last night, didn’t he?” Henry asked, keeping his voice low.

       “I finally got him to sleep around five but, I think he went to the corner store when it opened at seven”

       “Damn.”

       “He was gone when I got up for class.”

       “I thought he looked particularly raccoon-ish today.”

        Blue tried not to sound concerned, but she also knew that if anyone was going to understand it would be the man beside her. Henry, like most of the boys, hadn’t changed much since his years at Aglionby. Which was both a blessing and a curse when you knew that under his sleek and professional business suits were tacky printed underwear and band tees. Still, now that Ronan was an eight hour drive away, and Adam was busy with GRE exams and work, Henry was the person who understood Gansey best. Sometimes even more than Blue.

       Sometimes that was a good thing.

       Henry, after all, knew the business that had now sucked Gansey in, hook line and sinker. Even if Blue was also along for the ride, there was no denying that for her boyfriend, the appeal of magical artifacts was very different. 

       “So, are we going to keep standing here or should I pop a bottle and pull out the pics?” Henry announced in a loud and, apparently necessary, reminder.

       Gansey finally walked over. “Please,” he said as his hand reached into the pizza box on the coffee table. “That is, Blue, if that’s alright?”

 Blue had to bite her tongue as his hazel eyes narrowly avoided making contact.

 He was definitely doing it again, she realized. Gansey only ever did check ins like that when something was wrong.

 Fuck.

       “It’s fine,” Blue said shortly.

       Henry eyed the space between them, and then whistled. “Alright. Red or White?”

       “Red,” said Gansey  
       “White,” said Blue in unison.

  
       Henry hesitated..“ I’m just going to get both.”

  
       “Thank you”  
       “Thanks, Cheng”

 

       The Greenmantle’s apartment held five wine racks in total, although, each rack was less of a rack and more of a display shelf fit for a vineyard. It was enough to make Gansey first question if Colin had failed in life as a Sommelier, and if bitterness was what had spurred his interest in the supernatural. Henry figured it had more to do with a lucrative side business of selling fake vintages. Blue just reckoned he was a pretentious asshole with hoarder tendencies.

       The various racks were stored around the rooms. One in the kitchen, one in the guest room, one in the bedroom and then the last two in the study.

 Blue wondered which room Henry would pick.

 She wasn’t surprised when he went for the study.

       In the newly quiet air of the living room, Gansey shifted on his feet with downcast eyes. His gaze was entirely captured by the mess of papers that Blue assumed he had left just before going to pick Henry up. She could only stand the silence for 0.02 seconds before she found herself completely done with whatever was going on, and stepping closer to Gansey to reach for his empty hand.

Silently Blue laced their fingers together, and the motion was enough to make the boy nearly choke as he swallowed his bite of dough and cheese.

       “Shuttup,” she said before he could even open his mouth. “You clearly weren’t going to do it.”

       Gansey looked down at her, quizzically. “I ...That’s because I thought you were mad.”

       “I am,” said Blue. “But I’m also not fond of being ignored when you get home.”

       “Sorry."

She ran her small thumb over the side of Gansey’s palm, feeling the warmth.

 Gansey didn’t protest.  
       
        Instead, cautiously, his body inched closer until he could feel her against him. A small shoulder pressing into his chest. Messy hair just under his chin. It was a gentle motion that permitted the pair to listen to the other’s breathing for a few short and simple seconds. Blue swayed, closing her eyes, and then, breaking the silence she asked, “Do you ever miss Henrietta?”  

       The question caught him off guard. “Of course I do.”

       Blue continued the motions of her thumb as she searched for words. “And Cabeswater?” she asked. “Not the energy. But just walking in it. The leaves, and branches. With Ronan and Adam and—”

       “And Noah. Yeah.”

       “It feels like it was ages ago, doesn’t it?”

Gansey held his tongue. It felt like _centuries_ ago. It also felt like yesterday. Like it was still going to happen.  
 An endless loop.

Blue pulled her body back away.

       “Is that what this is about?” Gansey asked. “ Did it bother you that much? When we didn’t drive back this year for Saint Mark’s?”

       She frowned and dropped his hand. No. That wasn’t the point she was getting at. “I told you it was fine. I know why you didn’t want to.”

       But Gansey immediately connected their fingers again. “I know but—”

       “When were you going to tell me Seondeok had information on the mirror?” Blue interrupted before they could get too far off course.

       His fingers stilled. “Because I didn’t know she did.”

       “Really?”

       “Jane,” Gansey sighed. “Until lunch, when I got the call, I was still focused on finding that mask. I had no idea.”

       Blue waited, searching for a reason to trust him. For any change in tone that hinted he was using his Business voice or, even worse, his old Mr. President voice. The closest he ever got to lying in front of her. But in the end, there was nothing, and she realized he was still Gansey. Even though the pizza grease, his breath smelled like mint.

       “You _should_ still be focusing on the mask,” she said. “There’s still a lot of items we need to find before the summer. You know that’s when the auctions all start up. Houston,  New York, Copenhagen,” she listed. “We did good with them last year. So... I was thinking earlier that mask might appear at the Houston one.”

       Gansey seemed surprised. This wasn’t at all what he expected her to want to discuss. Usually she tagged along because of him and Henry. Because her being battery was sometimes useful in testing if something was genuine or not. Gansey couldn’t remember the last time Blue was interested in the business side of things. Beyond the legalities of course.

       “I know,” he told her. “Henry and I already put the fly paper out for information as it comes in. I’ve been keeping track of the London scene too, and Mr. Gray is working on tracking down the people the Manjavacas hired, in case they know something. ”

       “Oh,” she said. “Good.”

       “There’s still no news on that ring from the Borgia’s though,” Gansey continued. “ Not since the seller pulled out last month. Henry is going to try running another search algorithm tonight to see if there’s something we missed. A new post somewhere. Maybe we can lure them out again.”

       Blue vaguely nodded. “Sounds good.”

       “Yeah... and I think we’ve narrowed that one doll down to Greenmantle’s last henchman, The french guy. Jacques something-or-other. It’s been a while but it hasn’t appeared on the market so it looks like he kept it after all.”

       “Great.”

In a small motion, Gansey searched his girlfriend’s face to see if those were the answers she wanted.

They weren’t.

And he was officially at a loss.

       “Jane...Blue. I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

       As far as Gansey understood it, the entire reason Blue got involved and stayed involved in the business at all, was in the hope that it might lead them to a way to resolve the curse. Well, that and the fact Gansey didn’t like the thought of people like Piper or the Laumoniers getting their hands on dangerous magical artifacts. Racing strangers to find Glendower first had been one thing. Easier.

       And he had failed at that.

       Examining Greenmantle’s list of other haunted or demonic items —of artifacts from Glendower’s time, or the time of alchemists and poison plots — was enough to keep his interest. Even if they didn’t all provide wishes, his hope had admittedly been to find something else that might.

       Then they caught rumor of the mirror. And that was it. He had found his new mission.

       So now that they might have their first real clue, Gansey didn’t understand why Blue wasn’t jumping for joy along with Henry and himself.  Why she kept wavering.

       “Gansey, I don’t—” Blue stopped, failing entirely to find a way of explaining what exactly it was that she needed to. But in the pause, Henry reemerged with two hands, each holding onto a dusty vintage which he promptly plopped onto the kitchen counter.

       “That guy had a serious problem with Cab Sauvs,” Henry said. “I had to rummage for ages to find a basic Zinfandel.”

 Gansey and Blue’s hands parted.

       “What kind of white did you get?” Gansey asked, as if the topic had already been dropped and forgotten. A switch had been flipped.

       “Sauvignon Blanc” Henry said, fighting a laugh. The Greenmantle’s had a type.

       From the kitchen there was a clatter and clink of glasses being fetched and set onto the white marble counter top.

       “Wait, what are you doing?” Gansey blurted as the cork was popped and Henry carried through the motion. “Decante it first!”

       Henry’s hand paused mid-pour into a mug. He looked at Gansey. “You’re joking.”

       “What year is it?”

       “It’s being paired with a ten dollar pizza and fake cheese. What’s it matter?”

       Gansey gave him a look. “Greenmantle kept his favourites in the study. That’s where all his wine journals are.”

       “So?”

       “Yeah, so?” Blue mimicked.

  
       Gansey sighed. He didn’t want to explain to them, _again,_ just how many of the old records he had read. That was a conversation for another night. “Just decante it.”

Henry shrugged and put the bottle down. “Fine. But when we all end up finishing the blanc and the red sits here forgotten don’t come crying to me.”

       “It’s like, thirty minutes for Zins.”

       “ _It’s like thirty minutes for Zins,_ ” Henry mocked as he began to pour the crimson liquid into it’s proper glass home.

 

       Odd as it was, and despite the conversation literally seconds prior, Blue found herself with a small grin as she watched him pour. A small reprieve from whatever failures in communication she was having with Gansey.

       It was nice to have Henry back, even if by now they were all used to it. Henry might have been gone three, maybe four days out of the week for various scouting trips, but it didn’t make his returns and less joyous. Especially on a night like this.

 And Blue could feel it.

 It was going to be a _night_.

 

       At last, with glasses in hands, the trio gathered themselves on the living room floor. Gansey rested against the exposed side of his mattress, while Henry rummaged through his bag to pull out three sets of manila envelopes. Then he jiggled the bag and stared inside. “Wake up.”

       Blue looked over with confused eyebrows, which relaxed as she suddenly remembered the missing, minuscule fourth wheel in their party. “Wait. Has it been in there the whole time?”

       Henry removed his hand and displayed the familiar metallic body of their friend, which slowly came back to life.

       “Yeah, with all the security checks and everything it’s easier if RoboBee just shuts down. Normally I wake him up on the drive.”

       “That’s right, I meant to ask when I didn’t catch him buzzing around the Pig,” said Gansey upon recollection.

Blue and Henry both elected to ignore asking Gansey _why_ he might have forgotten to ask.

       RoboBee rose into the air and swirled about the space before at last settling on top of Henry’s shoulder. There, the envelopes sat displayed in front of them, odd and, unnecessarily ominous.

       Envelopes tended to be the average delivery format for the field. Even Greenmantle, who much preferred his tech and lack of a paper trail, had a desk drawer full of them, empty from previous deliveries and secured behind lock and key. Which had been a joy to try and pick. Along with the forty-one other hideaways throughout the apartment.  
His corpse, regrettably had not come with a set of keys.

Thankfully Blue was crafty.

       “So, here’s the thing,” Henry began to explain. “When Seondeok called me last night, I thought it was about the mask. Or, maybe that lapis ring or something that we lost track of a couple weeks back. You guys remember that right? The Laumoniers had it before the...Well. You know.”

       “We know.”

       “Right. So, I fly out there and get to the safe house she has on this side of the border.  When I arrive we do the little exchanges, I burn my tongue on the tea, and then, we sit down, and low and behold she puts _this_ on the table.”

        At the word, Henry removed an A4 size black and white photograph from the first envelope and placed in on the floor for them all to see. The image was dark, and grainy, but as Gansey leaned over, there was no question what he was looking at.

       “That’s the box,” he said, and moved closer for inspection. “That definitely seems like Welsh.” His fingers pointed to the series of etchings visible on one side. Hazel eyes squinted from behind gold frames. “It’s too blurry to make out the rest but I’m certain.”

       Henry nodded. “Yeah. It’s welsh. This photo was blown up from the original one in the 60’s. Thing is, no one knew what it was. Besides, it was just a wooden box, nothing special.”

 He grabbed the second envelope and removed three more sheets of paper, and placed them down for the others to see.

       “So, according to Seondeok, the reason we never saw that picture before, was because for the last few decades, no one could fucking open it. They thought it was just a chunk of wood.” He pointed to another photo, which showed in much clearer detail the fact there was no visible seam.

        Blue picked up one of the photos. “It looks like it might have been water damaged. Was it dumped in a lake or something?”

       “Or something,” Henry said, mildly pleased.

       “It was a bog wasn’t it.”

       “It was a bog!” he shouted with full joy. “And the sediments stuck into the crevices, essentially sealing it shut.”

       Gansey picked up another photo.“Where was the bog? Ireland?”

       “Scotland somewhere,” mumbled Henry as he reached for the final envelope, which seemed to hold numerous papers, mostly lists and maps or provenance. “Ah. it was found in some peat harvested from a bog near Caithness.”

       “Peat?”

       Henry laughed. “Oh, right, that’s the great part. They burn peat for the whisky making process, right? So I guess this guy was chopping it up and found it?”

       Gansey’s eyes went wide. “That's lucky.”

       “Isn’t it?”

       Blue reached for another photo. “Is it still in Scotland?” she asked.

       Henry flipped the paper over. “No, believe me, that’d have made it easy. Instead the family took these photos of the box before selling it at an antiques market. Some tourists bought it back in 68’. From there, it seems to have stayed in a garage or closet or something until the daughter took it with her when she moved to B.C. a few years ago.”

       “So, wait,” Gansey pinched at the space between his eyebrows, trying to process the information. “You’re telling me a medieval artifact that has easily two dozen collectors searching for it ,was just, passed around for the last fifty years? And no one knew.”

       “Pretty much.”

       Sadly, it wasn’t that preposterous of an idea. Half of Gansey’s experiences in the last three years were a result of people just not knowing what it was they had in their home. With no records or museum visits for appraisal, it was a wonder the three of them even managed to locate half of the stuff they did. The world still thankfully turned its pockets out for Gansey, and that was their saving grace.

       “And we’re sure it’s got the mirror inside?” Blue asked as she ran her finger over the spot on the photo where a seam should have been. “How do we know it wasn’t removed before someone tossed it in the bog in the first place?”

       “We don’t,” said Henry simply.

 Blue frowned.

 Gansey tried to think.

       “If we get the box, we can take it for imaging. Malory knows a guy who’ll do it under the table.”

       “Yeah but how much would that cost us?”

       Gansey shrugged. “A grand maybe. But that’s assuming a dream item would even show up properly with radiography.”

       “Guess it's a good thing we’re selling Mortimer.”

       “We’re still not sure it _is_ a dream item,” confessed Blue.

       “Would Ronan be able to tell?”  

       Gansey thinned his lips. “Hard to say.”

       For a moment the three of them sat, racking their brains for possibilities. Any possible way to examine the box for its contents. Of course, being able to examine it meant first, they’d need to get their hands on it.

       Gansey turned to Henry. “You said a woman in British Columbia owned it now. Vancouver?”

       “Well, she was the last one Seondeok’s resources could trace it to. There’s no way of knowing if she still has it.”

       “But she’s in Vancouver?” Gansey asked again, this time with a notable shift in tone.

There it was. A tone that told Blue he was already planning a trip. That school was again, the last thing on his mind. A sign that Gansey was in work mode.

       Henry, picked up on it too. “No,” he said. “She’s not in Vancouver. “

       “Then where is she? How are we supposed to find her? What’s her name?”

       “ _Gansey_ ,” Blue pressed.

       “What? What’s wrong now?”

       “Just take a breath for a second and let Henry finish.”

At the words, Gansey shut his mouth, and looked between his two partners. Then, he took a breath and returned his attention to the photos.

       “She… she was last seen in Nanaimo,” Henry continued. “But that was in the late 90’s.”

       He picked up another piece of paper, and scanned it, then reached to hand it to Gansey. On it, was a list of locations, with corresponding dates, and the source of the information. Whether the item itself had been seen, or just the woman. If it was a rumor, or a newspaper clipping that might connect the stories. Gansey’s eye immediately went to those.

       They would frequently use newspaper clippings and court records to try and find magical items. Even blogs. It was something mentioned in Colin’s journal that Gansey had failed to utilize much in his own hunt for Glendower. Local papers were different from archaeological surveys and scholarly articles. Although newspapers weren’t much help in finding a centuries old burial of a king, they were nonetheless helpful in searching for cursed items. People loved to write about weird ongoings in their towns. Shining lights. Unexplainable murders.  
  
       Sometimes it was a dead end. Other times it led him one step closer to whatever the artifact of the week was. On occasion, it taught him sometimes murders weren’t supernatural at all - just the deeds of greedy men and a few former accomplices of Mr. Gray. Those occasions also reminded Gansey to change the security settings on the Greenmantle’s system.

       “What are you thinking?” Henry asked. Blue finished off her glass and reached for another slice of pizza.

       “There hasn’t been much activity around it,” said Gansey. “At all.”

       Henry nodded. “I noticed that too.”

       “Why?”

       “‘Cuz it’s da mirror n’ not da box,” mumbled Blue through a large bite. She swallowed. “Lore said all the box did was keep it out of trouble, yeah?”

 Gansey nodded.

 Blue gestured as if that was the entire point.

       Finally, Gansey put the papers down and reached for one of the few remaining slices. “So we really are at stage one.”

       “At least it's a stage,” Henry reassured him. “Which, is good, right?”

       At the words he turned to Blue, hopeful, but she looked away.

       “Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”

       And so the topic fell away.

 

 

       Later, inside Greenmantle’s old study, the room was silent aside from the turning of pages, and occasional rustle of some unknowable sound. From his spot in the black leather chair behind the desk, Gansey’s eyes poured over Colin’s journal with a focus so sharp, so solid, it stood in direct protest to the alcohol that lingered in his bloodstream. Midnight neared, meaning it was late enough that Henry was likely snoring from the Master bedroom, but there was too much work, Gansey thought. Sleep still felt a long way off.

       Gansey made a note in his own journal, the one gifted to him by Seondeok, copying a mention of what was probably the mask in a town 70 miles south-west of Houston before turning to the next page and scanning it quickly.

A knock echoed, and it took Gansey a moment to realize it was truly coming from the door, and not just another strange sound worth ignoring.

Blue knocked again.

       “Come in,” he said as the journal’s pages closed between his fingers. Gansey put the pen down and stood, but as Blue entered the room she motioned with her hand.

       “Don’t bother, “ she told him. Her feet stopped just beyond the threshold, and Blue cautiously looked around the space. At the shelves and boxes of items. A chill went up her spine.

       Gansey got up anyways. “What is it?”

 The sight of his girlfriend in the study was a rare and curious thing. A box on the wall shifted, and Blue decided it best to hurry the conversation.

       “Are you heading to bed soon?” she asked. “It’s been a long day.”

       “I’ve still got some work to do,” he told her.

       Blue made a face. Not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “You’ve always got work to do.”

       Gansey shrugged.

       “I don’t even understand how you’re awake right now,” she said and sighed. She stepped closer, bypassing a file cabinet whose contents she was certain were the cause of the drop in temperature and the new, vague ringing in her ear. She tried to shake it off. “You got like, two hours of sleep last night.”

       Gansey smiled. “Thanks to you.”

       Blue didn’t fall for his charm. “Is that gonna happen again tonight?” she asked him, and in the late hour her Henrietta accent slipped through. “Should I be settin’ my alarm for some ungodly hour of the morning to tuck you in and give a kiss goodnight?”

The boy across from her stilled, and a small part of Blue winced a she realized the mistake. The sarcasm was meant to be poignant,  not potent.

She tightened her lips in regret.

       “No,” Gansey answered cooly. “I can tuck myself in.”

The room once again, fell quiet.

       “Really? ‘Cause I don’t think you can,” said Blue, not hiding the fact she could see the journal on the desk where Gansey had sat, and the pens sprawled out, clearly in use. Gansey stepped closer and just enough to the side to hide them.

       Something he never felt the need to do in Monmouth.

       “When was the last time you researched Glendower?” she asked him, but it only earned a confused expression to appear on his face. “Honestly.”

       He thought about it for a moment. Months, technically. And even then, it was to search and compare his Glendower notes for mentions of a mirror or similar artifact. Something inside of him felt guilty, but another part, the side of Gansey more awake, did not. “We found him, Jane. That’s over. Its—”

       “It was your _life_ , don’t give me that crap. Every five minutes, it was Glendower this, Glendower that. Now it’s like, like he was some sort of an ex who never mattered.”

 

       Admittedly, Gansey knew his silence was because some part of it pained him to remember. Gansey missed Glendower like a college Freshman missed being a Senior on the verge of Graduation. Hope. Potential. That’s what it all boiled down to, only now, it was used up.  
       Gone.

       Gansey frowned. “Glendower failed. The mirror is different.”

       As soon as the M word had been dropped, Blue scoffed, throwing her hands in the air and pivoting.

       “You know what, forget it. I’m going to bed.  If you’re still up at 3 I’m letting Henry deal with you, because I’ve had enough.” And with those words she turned back toward the door with every intention to slam it and then resign herself to to the blankets of her bed.

       But quickly, panicked, Gansey reached forward, grabbing her just before she had a chance to leave. His finger tightening just above the elbow, and her spine went rigid.

       “Get your hand _off_ of me,” said Blue sternly before ripping her small arm away from his grip. Gansey’s hand hung in the air, lost and out of place, before slowly it fell back to his side. His face was unreadable.

       “I didn’t—”

       “Don’t you _ever_ touch me like that.”

       Gansey closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath as it shook and the room felt dark. Cold. Why had he done that?

       His hand reached up to muss through the layers of day-worn gel in his hair. “I know,” he told her. “I know, I know, I—   _fuck_ , I’m sorry, Jane.”

       Blue frowned, keeping her distance. “What’s _wrong_ with you today?”

       Hazel eyes turned to her, pleading. For a moment his thoughts couldn’t seem to reach his mouth. As if every concern fighting to be the first. But Gansey, after taking the time, finally let it slip.

       “This is what we’ve been working for,” he tried to explain. “Why don’t you care?”

       In the cluttered space of the study they stood, still and frozen in the growing night. Here Gansey was, Blue realized, pleading for what was probably the only thing he ever demanded of anyone — honesty.

       So, Blue surrendered, too tired to be anything but blunt.

       “What if it doesn’t work?” she confessed at last.

        Gansey didn’t get the chance to say something however before Blue continued.

       “I know it's supposed to be a dream thing, but shouldn’t that make us even more suspect?” she told him. “You know what Ronan said.”

       Gansey’s thoughts took a minute to recoil and compose themselves. “That’s because Ronan doesn’t trust other Greywarens, Jane. Between Kavinsky and his father—”

       “It’s a valid bias.”

       “So... What? Because Kavinsky was an asshole it means you don’t want to trust some dreamer from the tenth century?’

       “No, it’s the fact he was from the tenth century that bothers me!” Blue said, amazed at the fact Gansey’s meticulous eye had willfully ignored the detail. Not just today, But apparently for the better part of two years. “You saw The Barns. What happened to Aurora. You know that dream items stop working when their owner is dead, Gansey. So why are you so willing to believe this one still even works when its creator probably died of the Plague and is lying like a mess of bones in some mass grave?”

       Gansey stopped. “The Plague started in the 1340’s. Centuries after this person would have died.”

 Blue looked at him.

 He continued, realizing now was not the proper time for historical trivia.

       “That is… it’s different. Those were living things. People. Animals. That’s why they caused functioning. But this isn’t—” he stopped again, and shook his head. “RoboBee still works, or have you failed to notice that?”

       Blue tried to soften her expression. To make her face seem less angry than she was. But she failed. “Gansey...We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

       “But we do!” he argued. “It's a—”

       “A box. Yes. I know. A box that contains a mirror that according to lore can,” she held a finger up. “Let me try and get this straight. Absorb demons, absorb _curses_ , _reflect_ curses, and maybe, according to some stories, absorb magic. Am I forgetting anything?”

       “...No.” He said, thinking. Then, “Well, actually—”

       “Shuttup, Gansey.”

       “Right.”

       “My point is, we don’t know anything.”

       Gansey frowned. “It’s hasn’t been that long.”

       “No?” Blue asked. “And after eighteen months of knowing about Glendower, how much information had you gathered? How much Welsh had you already taught yourself?

       “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” Gansey asked, not liking how Blue kept diverting the focus of this all back to Glendower. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

       “Because.”

       “Because _why_ , Jane? ”

       Blue shrugged, her arms crossed and held tight. “We didn’t even know if it was real. We were just looking for clues back then.”

       “Precisely. And now we’ve _found_ it. We know it’s real and there’s photographs.”

       “Gansey…” Blue sighed, and she moved back to the antique velvet chair in the corner, sitting down with a small and tired _plop_.  

       Gansey waited, and then followed, carefully sidestepping the piles of books and papers, to kneel down beside her. He looked at his girlfriend. Her small, cozy looking form wrapped in flannel and cotton, a visual mess of everything that should feel like home.

       And it wasn’t that she _didn’t_ feel that way.  Like always when the stress level reached more than an eight, he wanted to just stop talking and pull her close. To kiss her, and ease her troubles away even before his own. He wanted to press their lips and let the world melt. To be quiet and calm like he used to feel.

       But they couldn’t, and so instead, Gansey cautiously reached his hand over to her thigh, and at the touch, Blue locked eyes with him.

       “I’m sorry,” he said, and waited as Blue stared down at him. “But frankly, I still don’t understand why you didn't tell me sooner. That this was your concern.”

Blue wanted to give him an answer, she really did, but instead her attention stayed fixated on Gansey’s hand. On her thigh. She swallowed.

Inside of her chest Blue felt her heart beat quicken, and ever so slightly, Gansey shifted his grip.

       “Jane?” he asked.

       “...Prove it.” She told him, and Gansey looked at her with furrowed brows.

       “Pardon?”

       “If you’re sorry,” she told him making sure their eyes met. “Then prove it.”

They had years of experience not kissing.

       Enough time to practically make it into an art. Trails of breath along the neck, and fingers dancing across navels. Skin pressing close, and closer still until neither could sense that there had ever been a line between them. To be perfectly honest, the couple wasn’t sure why an orgasm from one’s phalanges was free from the curse but fellatio wasn’t.  Maybe it was. But maybe it wasn’t. So, regrettably off the menu oral stayed. For the both of them.

The terms were entirely fickle.  A curse limited to a kiss. To lips.

Maybe it was because being a battery, there was a positive and negative charge, Blue often wondered. Maybe her mouth was just unbalanced.

       Gansey once joked it was because old magic was full of rules, but still primarily romantic.

       Blue told him romance was a modern invention.

       Gansey had distinctively disagreed.

       She was reminded of that now, as his other hand rose to her cheek, his fingers trailing up her ever growing blush in a slow and gentle movement, painfully gentle as they moved to stroke her hair.

A small, tired and bitter part of Blue loathed how she fell weak to the motion.

The other part didn’t mind at all.

       It’s not the first time Blue has felt the warmth of Gansey’s fingertips pressing into her thigh. Nor the first time they’ve slipped below the fabric of her boxers. Almost instinctively her small legs spread against the lush fabric of the chair, allowing Gansey to move closer. Welcoming whatever plans he had.

       “Ah-”

       A breathy sound escaped as his other hand moved to tug at her hair, and then slide down her neck and along her spine. Gansey grinned, small and pleased, and Blue’s hands shot out to force his head down and against her neck. Until she could feel his hair brushing against her skin. He let out a low, hushed laugh and it seemed to vibrate all the way through her.

This, she decided, was better than fighting.

At least for now.

It was a mutually beneficial distraction.

       “Tell me what you want,” he told her softly, his breath still tickling her just below the ear.

Blue squirmed, shifting her body down in an effort to pull him on top of her.

Gansey only laughed again, and it was relieved, and relaxed, and boyish, and _Gansey_ again. She had the thought to punch him for it.

       Around them the air felt no longer silent. Instead it surged with a growing and near-tactile static. A cold, fluctuating miasma that hovered. And as the blood rushed to her cheeks and other, admittedly less proper areas, all Blue felt was warmth.

       Warmth and Gansey’s fingers as they pressed forward, quickening their pace as her hips rose eagerly to meet them.

       Warmth as his lips hovered dangerously over her skin. Not inches but millimeters.

       Warmth, warmth, and then—

The lamp on the desk flickered.

       Gansey pressed harder, causing her knee to shake against him as Blue felt the muscles of his arm, moving, twisting against her thigh, and her entire body seemed to tremble.

Then the door slammed shut and the shelves seemed to shake.

Something, a box, flew off of the storage shelf behind the chair.

       “Shit!” Blue shouted as her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Gansey pulled away. Only enough to glance round the room with uneven breaths and his own pair of flushed cheeks.

       “What’s wrong?”

       Blue scrambled to close her legs and curled herself up into a ball on the velvet cushion. “Did you— There was—”

       Gansey arched an eyebrow, and then turned again to look around the room. He turned back to her. “What did you see?”

       “N-nothing,” said Blue. “It just,” she eyed the door again, and then swallowed. “I _hate_ this place.”

       Realizing the moment was lost, with no hope to continue, Gansey slowly stood himself up, and wiped his fingers on his pant’s leg.

The study door flew open again.

       Blue fought against every overly-excited nerve in her body not to jump, and was relieved to find Henry standing there half naked, instead of some ghostly apparition or worse.

“What’s going on?” He asked with a notably concern laced voice.

        “Nothing,” said Blue quickly.

       Gansey frowned. “Actually, we were—”

       “Doing nothing.” Blue insisted, to which Gansey frowned further.

       Henry looked around and saw a few items had fallen, and the light flickered. Blue, who now started to believe that her body was shuddering for maybe more than one reason, finally crawled out of the chair and looked between them. “But now that you’re here _you_ can be the one to convince Gansey to go to bed.”

       Henry turned his attention to Gansey, whose demeanor was much more revealing than Blue’s about the previous events. He quirked a smile.

       “Oh.”

       Blue wrapped her flannel tighter around her body as the chill in the room returned with a vengeance. She walked the few short steps to the doorway and tried to brush past Henry.

       “What, I don’t get a kiss goodnight?” he teased.

       Blue stopped, and then reminded herself that the words meant something very different for Henry than for Gansey. So, in an all too familiar manner, she raised two fingers to her mouth and kissed them before standing on her tippy toes and pressing them to the side of Henry’s own as he grinned.

       “Atta girl. Night Bluebonnet.”

       “‘Night.” she said to him, and then half turned. “That goes for _both_ of you.”

       From his spot in the center of the study, Gansey stood and watched her leave. Then, he bent down to pick up the box that had fallen over. It was cardboard, and filled with enough foam to protect the small Song dynasty apothecary jar inside.

       “So,” said Henry as he stepped in closer, dropping his smile. “What was that about?”

       Gansey rubbed his thumb over the edge of the box, and then put it back. He sighed. “She doesn’t think it's going to work.”

       “I figured as much.”

       “How?”

       “Because its Blue,” Henry confessed. “And you’re you.”

       “What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “Nothing man, just,” Henry shrugged and picked up a small trinket from atop the file cabinet. “I wasn’t there for the Glendower bit. But, you’re kind of easily blind to hope.”

Gansey looked at him.

       “Oh, don't get me wrong. Its downright charming. Especially on you.”

Henry put the item down.

       “You’re saying you don’t think it’ll work either?”

       The look on Gansey’s face went beyond disbelief and treaded into an exhausted betrayal. A confusion that Henry didn’t bother to look at because a man like Gansey should never have to wear an expression like that. If Henry had a say in it, Gansey wouldn’t even be caught frowning. But he knew the other boy too much for that.

       “I’m saying…” he said, and then finally looked up. “I made some calls earlier. So, if you want to go to Vancouver, there’s a flight after your morning class we can catch.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a huge thank you goes out to @sarahtaylorgibson on tumblr for Beta'ing.
> 
> And thank you to everyone curious enough to stick around! I know this concept is a little out there but I'm so grateful for all the support I've received thus far.  
> I'll try to have Ch. 3 up before too long.


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